


'til you're old enough to know things ain't as they appear

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-13
Updated: 2007-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliche and totally AU, but y'know, it could've happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** 'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating:** R [NC-17 overall]  
**Word Count:** 3, 410  
**Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
**Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will _not_ unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the timeframe at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
  
  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Pledge Week.  
Day 4._  
  
  
  
A dog collar. A fucking _collar_. He guesses he should be glad Jared went for a simple blue ribbon instead of a glittery pink fiasco like he’d seen a few of the other pledges running around with. Chad’s little Brother is wearing spikes, so there is _that_.  
  
It’s just. It’s just _feeling_ the damned thing stretched tight against his throat, and then seeing the leash in Jared’s hand…it’s just seventeen different kinds of fucked up, is what it is. And way too fucking hot for Jensen’s peace of mind, as he’s basically _dragged_ through the east quad, head bowed, enduring the pointed stares and cat-calls and feeling his cheeks flush from the sun and his own confused excitement.  
  
Christ, he should _not_ be getting off on this. None of it’s real; it’s all some stupid power play by a bunch of idiotic fratboys to initiate whomever they deem worthy into their weird, sycophantic society. Jensen knows this. He does.  
  
It’s just that none of his research, none of his notes ever prepared him for _Jared_ \-- for this fucking _kid_ with ridiculous dimples and floppy hair. He isn’t prepared to deal with heavy-lashed, slanted eyes that belong on a fucking cat, or a puppy, or someone sucking Jensen’s dick. Oh, yeah, that last one especially.  
  
To make matters even worse, or better depending on just how fucking screwed Jensen wants to let himself be, he doesn’t think he’s imagining Jared’s reaction to _him,_ either. The quick looks and coy smiles whenever he doesn’t think that dipshit Chris is looking, the way he’s unnecessarily up in Jensen’s personal space every damn second of the damn day. Fucking _touching_ Jensen, teasing him, when he knows – he _knows_ \-- Jensen can’t do a damn thing about it. Because it’s Master and Servant Day, and Jensen can’t afford to say _what the fuck, Jared?_ because he can’t blow this. He won’t.  
  
Fucking fraternities and their sick, twisted mindgames.   
  
His erection just pisses him off, just solidifies his intentions. He hunches his shoulders and grits his teeth, determined to ignore the pulsing, demanding call of his dick -- _c’mon, Jen, just look at his **mouth!**_ \-- and to concentrate instead on the article he’s gonna write that’s gonna expose Delta Sigma Pi for the hazing jackasses they really are.  
  
So he doesn’t let himself think about Jared, or the warm curl in his belly when Jared suddenly stops, spins around and pins Jensen in place with the force of a quick flash of teeth.   
  
“We’re here.” Deep, provocative voice that Jensen most definitely has _not_ been jerking off to every night since he was assigned to the overgrown, ridiculously sexy man-child.  
  
Jensen opens his mouth, then remembers his role when Jared’s eyes narrow. He lowers his gaze and simply nods his head. Hopes that Jared misses the subtle curve of the sneer on his lips.  
  
There’s a beat of silence. “Well, come on then.” Jared tugs on the leash and Jensen’s dragged a few inches forward. He blinks, looking up and sucking in sharply at the curious gleam in Jared’s eyes. “Something you wanna say, pledge?” Jared asks, too softly, and Jensen’s not sure if it’s an invitation or a threat.  
  
He just shakes his head, blood thundering in his ears and cock thick and swollen in his pants. Follows Jared inside of the house, down the hall, meek and obedient like a fucking slave, and _God_ , why isn’t he completely disgusted yet?  
  
A part of him is, of course. And he’s pretty sure that if he’d been assigned to Chad or any of the other Brothers, he’d be having a hard time not outing himself and punching all of the smug pricks in their Greek noses.   
  
With Jared, his problem’s not falling so far into the game that he doesn’t want to stop playing.  
  
“Turn left,” Jared says, even though he’s the one leading Jensen around by the collar. His voice takes on a crooning softness that has a hot shudder starting deep in Jensen’s bones. They stop in front of a door, and Jared lifts a brow. “Go on in, I’ll be there in a second.”  
  
Jensen swallows back the questions his reporter’s instinct screams, just pushes open the door and walks inside. He knows it’s Jared’s room even without seeing the pictures decorating the walls, the baseball bat in the corner of the room, the Cowboys poster on the ceiling. He knows it’s Jared’s room because it smells like clean soap and musky spice and everything else that’s been haunting Jensen since the beginning.  
  
If he wasn’t hard before, he’s aching and ready to burst now.  
  
A minute later the door shuts behind him, and he startles a bit before Jared’s warm hand closes down over his shoulder, those long fingers curling practically into Jensen’s collarbone. Jared’s other hand settles on Jensen’s other shoulder, and Jensen finds himself pressed up against the wall before he ever sees Jared move.  
  
There’s a faint warning in his head, a dim wail of, _oh shit, what’re you doing, Jensen? Mayday, mayday!_ but god _damn_ , Jared’s seducing him with his eyes and his mouth and the cock of his hips as he brushes close and hums just under his breath.  
  
“Did you learn the Creed, Jensen?”   
  
Jensen can’t look away from the gleam of saliva on Jared’s wide mouth. Realizes Jared must’ve licked his lips, and oh, _God._  
  
“Y-Yes.” He struggles to get his bearings, barely recognizing the husky-raw sound of his own voice. “I studied it.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
When Jared turns around and walks away, Jensen slumps against the wall and wonders what the hell he missed. Disappointment is a bitter tang on his tongue, frustration chasing sour that he’d been about two seconds away from grabbing Jared by his shirt and dragging that pouty, smirky mouth to his own. Fucking _tasting_ what’s only been a tease for too damn long.  
  
Then Jared’s reaching for his shirt, pulling it over is head, and Jensen’s mouth drops open and a strangled sound thickens the air when Jared nods. “Say it for me.”  
  
_I want you._ It’s the first thing Jensen thinks to say, but he swallows it down, not missing the knowing flash in those dark, watchful eyes. “Okay,” he says instead, and searches his brain for anything other than thoughts of Jared, naked Jared, naked _horny_ Jared, naked horny Jared licking a naked _Jensen…_  
  
“You gotta tell me, Jensen,” Jared’s smoky voice sounds just beside him, punctuating the slip-slide of palm on Jensen’s shoulder, and when the hell had the fucker _moved?_ “I’m not gonna force you. I wanna hear it from those _mmm_ -pretty pink lips first.”  
  
_Oh, God._ Jensen squirms, heat spreading through his belly. More than likely, Jared’s just fucking with him…testing him. Seeing how easily Jensen’ll break. The Deltas sure as hell were pulling out the big guns with this guy.  
  
A soft noise comes out of Jared’s throat, and he walks around and kneels in front of Jensen. Brown-green eyes are hooded and glittering, lips pursed, and it’s all too easy for Jensen to imagine them bite-swollen and come-slick as he swallows a groan and lifts his lashes to meet Jared’s consuming gaze.  
  
“To believe in what my Brothers hold True,” Jensen recites, voice husky-rough, cracking a little when those long fingers reach for his belt. That same something flashes through Jared’s eyes, his lips curving and tongue swiping the edges -- _oh, goddamn_ \-- and Jensen cants his hips, lids falling half-mast. “To walk…walk in the way of Those Before Me.”  
  
“That’s good.” Jared croons it softly, working leather through silver. Shaggy curls fall across his eyes, and Jensen’s fingers itch to brush them back, twist and hold. He curls them into his palm, nails biting skin, and Jared chuckles low like he _knows._ “Keep going.”  
  
_Aw fuck, what even comes…_ “To serve…to serve…” He trails off, a sob catching in his throat when Jared leans forward and snags the hem of Jensen’s threadbare cotton shirt in his teeth. “Oh, _God._ ”  
  
Just like that, Jared pulls back and moves away. Something like regret shines in his eyes before his voice hardens, going impersonal and flat. “Spoken out of turn, pledge.”  
  
_Shitdamnfuckinghell._   
  
“Turn around.” Soft, commanding, and Jensen closes his eyes, lurches his hips, and tastes excitement rich on his tongue. Followed by slightly bitter uncertainty when denim’s tugged down past his ass, a callused hand brushing along in its wake. He shivers, drawing on his bottom lip, and pushes back just enough into Jared’s touch.  
  
_Please._  
  
When it comes, Jared’s voice is almost apologetic. “Gonna have to punish you, Jensen. I need you on your knees for me, your hands on the floor. That’s right…just slide on down right there.” He hums under his breath, hands shaping Jensen’s hips and helping him into position.  
  
Jensen can feel his legs shaking, wants to look over his shoulder but doesn’t dare. Just stares down at the carpet in Jared’s bedroom, ass up, hands down. Waiting. There’s a part of him that feels like he’s standing off in the corner, seeing all of this go down with not a little fascination and disbelief.  
  
He doesn’t _do_ this. Doesn’t submit himself to this kind of bullshit. Ever.  
  
He’s so caught up in that thought, the crack of wood against palm makes him flinch, and his gaze snaps to Jared, dropping and freezing on the vaguely intimidating paddle in those large hands.  
  
Oh. Fuck. His fingers are already curling in the too-long carpet fibers, throat clogging with pleas and protests, and then Jared quiets him with, “Eyes forward, pledge. Trust your Brother to take care of you.”  
  
It’s totally fucking twisted, but Jensen’s dick is hard and ready to go, ass almost twitching in preparation for the first solid smack of the paddle. He hangs his head between his shoulders and swears to God Jared won’t hear him whimper.  
  
“To believe in what my Brothers hold True.” Jared’s voice is grainy and filthy-low, almost like he’s trying to soothe Jensen’s frazzled nerves. Although Jensen knows damn well the last thing Jared’s there to do is make him feel comfortable. Sure enough, the paddle comes down, branding Jensen’s ass, and he bucks back into the sharp throb.  
  
“Mmm. To walk in the way of Those Before Me,” Jared continues, _purrs_ , stroking the edge of the paddle along the fiery patch of skin. “To serve with Honor.” The second bite of the paddle drags out a groan from deep in Jensen’s chest. He blinks heavy lashes and breathes a soundless curse, which Jared echoes into the thick silence. Then, “Ready to tell me the rest, pledge?”  
  
For the first time all week, Jensen doesn’t _want_ to talk. Just wants to stay there, bent over and taking it from this goddamn _kid_ who’s got him by the short and curlies and fucking knows it, too. But his pride’s too much to swallow, and he hears himself saying, “This is the Belief, the Way, the H-Honor of Delta Sigma Pi.”  
  
“What’s your name, pledge?” Another smack, softer and lower against Jensen’s left cheek.  
  
Jensen hunches his shoulders, feels the burn and rides with it. “I have no name until I’ve earned the name of Brother.”  
  
“And do you think you’ve earned it?” Soft breath, slurred vowels right in Jensen’s ear -- Jensen licks his lips and tries to ignore the thrum of blood in his veins and cock. There’s a test somewhere in here, and he can’t go letting his dick get the better of his brain.  
  
“Not my decision to make,” he forces out, sweat starting to gather at his temples and the base of his spine, and Christ, but he can fucking _taste_ the cologne flavoring Jared’s skin.  
  
Jared’s quiet for a long moment. And then, “Very good.”   
  
Jensen goes nearly limp with relief, blowing out a heavy breath and squeezing his eyes shut. _It’s okay, you’ve still got a chance with this. Just keep playing the game._  
  
“You’re _very_ good, Jensen,” Jared repeats, husky and approving, and then his hands are sliding down Jensen’s hips, smoothing over the welts from the paddle. “You’re trying very hard, aren’t you? Wanna make your Brothers happy?”  
  
It’s on the tip of his tongue to correct Jared -- _not the Brothers, just you_ \-- but he can’t afford to be thinking those thoughts, much less saying them out loud to some guy he barely knows. Whether or not said guy makes his dick fly like a flag in a stiff breeze.  
  
He’s silent for so long that Jared sighs, the sound amused and just a little annoyed. “You can speak, pledge. I’m asking you a question.”  
  
Jensen flicks his tongue, wetting his lips. He’s unable to meet Jared’s gaze when Jared’s finger curls around his chin, tilting his face toward his own. “I just wanna…” Jared’s nose brushes his cheek; a soft tongue laps at the corner of his mouth. “ _Fuck._ Jared.”  
  
Everything goes still the second he whispers it, and horror mixes with anticipation. _You’ve blown it, fucked it up, idiotidiotidiot…_  
  
“Yeah.” Jared’s voice is a growl against Jensen’s neck, sharp teeth sinking in. Marking, and Jensen groans and arches back when Jared’s hand slips down to rub at his dick. “ _Yeah._ Say it again, wanna hear you—”  
  
A loud knocking interrupts whatever Jared’s about to say, and Jensen’s first impulse is to leap away, pull his clothes on and deny, deny, deny. His trials in accepting his own sexuality taught him the importance of privacy, if nothing else, and he’s not about to let it get out that he likes being held down and _spanked_ , for chrissake. Although really, it’s news to him as well.  
  
“Don’t move.” Jared’s cursing and stomping toward the door, and Jensen hears it swing open, squeaking on its hinges. “What the fuck, man?”  
  
“What’re you _doing_ in there?” comes an obnoxiously familiar voice, and Jensen winces and tugs his jeans up, ignoring the sore scream of his ass. The absolute last thing he wants is for Chad to see him like this, to have it come back and bite him in the ass when this is all over.   
  
Jared doesn’t sound too thrilled, either. “Dude, seriously. Go away.”  
  
“What’re you…you got someone in there, Jay?” Jensen sees a head of dirty-blond hair bouncing over Jared’s shoulder, and contemplates diving behind the bed, despite the punishment he might receive from disobeying orders. “Who is he, you dog?”  
  
Jared splutters out a breath, scratching the back of his neck, and Jensen can see the flush painting Jared’s skin pink. “He’s a _pledge_ , dillhole.”   
  
Chad’s whistle is knowing and sly. “Oh. Nice. You scored good on yours, man. Mine’s a lost fucking cause.”  
  
Jensen practically _hears_ Jared’s smirk, and shifts his feet, feeling a bit weird about standing here listening to Jared and Chad discuss him like he’s…like he’s fucking cattle or something. Which, technically, he is. At least for this week and under the eyes of these people.  
  
And ain’t that a bitch?  
  
But Jared only says, “Get lost, fucker. I’ll see you at dinner” and slams the door in Chad’s face, turning around and pinning Jensen with a single look as Jensen comes to his feet. “I told you not to move.”  
  
Jensen’s jaw goes tight, and suddenly it’s all too clear. This kid is years younger than he is, doesn’t know a damn thing about what life’s like outside of the protective circle of college and the Delta Sigs, and Jensen can’t fucking _believe_ he’s gotta accept that.   
  
Something softens in Jared’s gaze then, and he steps forward. “Look, Jensen…I know this is all a little weird.”  
  
_You think?_ Jensen stays silent, tries not to think about the burn of the paddle on his ass or his own damned reaction to it.   
  
Jared huffs out a breath, rubs the back of his neck, and looks Jensen up and down until Jensen’s ready to give up and glance away. “C’mon, Jen.” It’s so soft, Jensen almost wonders if he imagines it. Then the deliberate shortening of his name hits him, and he stares at Jared hard, trying to read whatever emotion’s shining in those green-brown depths.   
  
“I.” He swallows, cuts himself off and bows his head. Then lifts his chin and stares Jared straight-on. “I have no name until I’ve earned the name of Brother.”  
  
Jared’s throat works, his mouth opening and closing. The next time it comes, his voice carries a thread of disappointment that wasn’t there before. “Very good, pledge.”  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
The Cactus Café.  
Two weeks earlier._  
  
  
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”  
  
Jensen smiles, wiping his hands with a questionably stained rag and tossing it on the counter. “It’s true,” he says, voice a low drawl that can barely be heard amidst the clatter of the Friday night dinner crowd and the wailing bluegrass band onstage.  
  
Steve’s expression remains uncertain, and Jensen can practically read the baffled thoughts his friend’s projecting like a cartoon bubble over his head. Hell, he can barely believe it himself.   
  
Jensen Ackles: Greek brother and alumnus has never been one of his life goals or aspirations, but all the same, when the call had come from _The Daily Texan_ , he’d jumped at the opportunity and signed on for Rush Week with the notorious Delta Sigma Pi’s. It’s their own damn fault for sending him an invitation in the first place, and he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.  
  
“But I thought…” Steve gets interrupted when a pretty blonde co-ed stumbles up to the bar, batting long lashes at his friend and begging for another Jack and Coke. Jensen just smirks, adjusting the ties of his apron and watching his friend assemble the drink, before Steve turns back to him and finishes his previous thought. “I thought you hated all that prissy Greek bullshit. ‘Solidarity’,” he mocks, gesturing with two fingers.  
  
“I do.” Jensen snorts. “But man, you just have no idea…the shit you can _get_ being Greek. With that kind of backing, I could probably get any internship I wanted.”  
  
“And what makes you think they’ll choose a wannabe massage therapist-slash-busboy-slash-bit reporter when there’s plenty of aspiring doctors and lawyers waiting in the wings? Money likes money, Jen.”  
  
Jensen’s smile becomes a smirk, knowing, and he bites his bottom lip before slanting Steve a look from under his lashes. “They’ve already invited me to join,” he points out. “Must’ve seen something they liked.”  
  
Steve’s voice is less than impressed. “Yeah. I’ll bet. Just…just watch out, okay? I’ve heard some crazy shit, and I just. Just be careful.”  
  
“Dude, seriously.” Jensen laughs, clapping Steve on the back as he comes around the bar counter. “I’m like three years older than most of these guys. I’m not scared of some little rich punks, and if _I_ don’t like what _I_ see, then I’m outta there before they can do a damn thing to me anyway.”  
  
He’s not about to admit that the only people with something to worry about are gonna be the damn Delta Sigs when Jensen’s through with them.   
  
“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Steve presses, scrubbing a bit harder at a dirty glass. “I mean, why _you?_ Why not Tommy? That guy’s been hot on the heels of every damn fraternity on campus and he’s got the family connections to back it up. You’re from fucking Richardson, and your dad sells used cars, man.”  
  
Jensen lets the insult roll off his back, well used to the derogatory comments about his hometown and upbringing amidst the money and prestige of the Austin college scene. He knows Steve doesn’t mean anything by it; his home life’s almost as pathetic as Jensen’s, anyway.  
  
“Sure, I’m curious.” He leans on the bar, ignoring the interested look from a vaguely familiar redhead he thinks he might have a night class on Thursdays with. She pouts, full lips sulky and pink, and Jensen thinks it’s a damn shame that the rest of her comes with the wrong equipment. “Why do you think I’m gonna show up there tomorrow?”  
  
Steve’s watching him with narrowed eyes now, and damn, but the guy’s always known Jensen just a little too well. “What’re you up to, Jensen?”  
  
Jensen grins, shrugs his shoulders and pushes back from the bar. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** 'Til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [2/7]  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 3, 152  
**Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
**Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the timeframe at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*  
  
  
  
Previously:  
  
_Steve’s watching him with narrowed eyes now, and damn, but the guy’s always known Jensen just a little too well. “What’re you up to, Jensen?”  
  
Jensen grins, shrugs his shoulders and pushes back from the bar. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”_  
  
  
And now:  
  
_University of Texas.  
Frat Row, ΔΣΠ House  
Day 6._  
  
  
Pink’s definitely his color.  
  
Jensen reminds himself of this lucky fact as he walks down the gravelly pavement, careful not to trip on the ice-pick thin heels currently making his calves ache. That the damn things could even be found in his size is worrisome enough, but that’s easily forgotten in favor of just where the hell Jared had come up with the lace thong and bra.  
  
The salmon-colored tank dress? Flatters him maybe a little _too_ well, judging by the looks he gets from several of the jocks crowding the front lawn of the Delta Sig House. It’s almost worth the five minute hike in stilettos to see the collective hard-on before him go limp with realization.   
  
Catching the gaze of one he recognizes from his poli-sci class, Jensen flutters his lashes -- thickened and blackened by a tube of mascara he borrowed from a bubbly bankteller in his building before leaving his apartment. Pursing glossy lips for the full effect, he swallows a chuckle when the thick-necked football player’s hand falls to his side. Beer spills in a pale arc onto the manicured lawn, and the guy croaks out, “Jensen?” as he walks by without comment.  
  
The music inside’s loud and modern enough to make him feel like an old fart, but he swallows a grimace and pushes past the writhing, drunken bodies in the foyer. Looks for any sign of Jared so he can get this shit over with and check off another box on his list of things he’s gonna make the Delta Sigs pay for when this all goes public.  
  
He doesn’t find Jared, but he sees plenty of other pledges working the room, all dressed in various slutty getups and being mocked and maligned by the Brothers and their guests. Jensen ducks into the kitchen, and smirks when he finds Michael hiding out inside.   
  
His friend and boss is all but drowning in a fruity blue and green cocktail that Jensen’s not willing to guess the contents of, but his eyes are still sharp and focused when Jensen nudges his shoulder and slides up onto the counter beside him.  
  
“Who’re you pledging, big boy?” He winds a golden curl through his fingers, giving Mike his best flirtatious, girly, come-hither look.  
  
Mike’s not particularly moved, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smacking his lips. “Nice wig.” His eyes travel down the length of Jensen’s body, and blue stains his teeth when he finally grins back. “Dude, did you shave your ass, too?”   
  
“What makes you think I don’t shave it anyway?” is all Jensen says, enjoying himself when Mike chokes on his next sip. Clapping a hand on Mike’s back, he leans in closer. “Like my dress? I think it really slims and accentuates my…legs.”  
  
“You’re a fucking egomaniac, Ackles.” Mike’s voice takes a turn for bitter and helpless when he sets his drink down on the counter. “Goddamn asshole pricks. They made Tom serenade a fucking biker bar last night. He got away with _only_ a coupla cigarette burns and a black eye.”  
  
Jensen’s smile fades away, a low curse tainting his lips. “Sigma Phi, right?” Anger burns his belly, sick and sharp, when Mike nods tightly. “Son of a bitch. Why the hell is he doing this, man? I don’t…”  
  
“Beauty. There you are.”   
  
Jared’s voice precedes him by a split-second, and Jensen’s not distracted enough to miss the warning hint in his “big Brother’s” voice. The fact that Jared’s using his stupid fraternity name alone is enough of an alarm.  
  
Ignoring Mike’s mouthed “Beauty?” he twists around, finding Jared scowling at them both. Jared’s arms are folded tight across the navy blue cotton of his shirt, muscles tense and bunched as he leans against the doorjamb and stares.  
  
Jensen wants to walk over and lick the broody frown from those sulky lips. _Hates_ himself for it, and looks away before the errant urge overcomes his good sense. Meeting Mike’s gaze, he apologizes best he can without words before sliding off of the counter and turning to face Jared fully.  
  
Jared’s gaze softens a bit as he looks Jensen up and down, then warms over in approval that has Jensen squirming in his motherfucking thong. “Wait for me in the den,” Jared says, dismissing Jensen, eyes traveling back over to Mike. “And who the hell are you?”  
  
Mike goes rigid, and Jensen licks his lips and starts, “It’s okay, he’s with me--”  
  
“Actually, you’re with me,” Jared corrects, too calmly, and Jensen most definitely does _not_ find the possessive note coloring Jared’s rumbly tone hot. But it’s a lot harder than he wants to admit to work up righteous indignation over it.  
  
“I was invited,” he hears Mike saying, his friend’s voice just short of patronizing. “Your…fraternity leader. Christian-something? Hired me to do a bit of advertisement for tonight’s events. I’m from the student paper.”  
  
Jared stares at him hard, but eventually nods, features relaxing a little. Still, his voice is no less mocking or combative. “You should check out the front lawn then. Heard there’s a rockin’ game of touch football goin’ on out there. Real front page stuff.”  
  
Mike’s lips thin, but he smiles and catches Jensen’s gaze one last time, pointed and meaningful as he brushes past. Jensen reaches up to rub his temple during the silence that follows, wishing he’d had one of those blue mystery drinks, too.  
  
“So, you showed after all.”  
  
He blinks, looking up at Jared’s suddenly cheery statement, and finds himself blinded by too-white teeth and sparkling eyes. “Uh, yeah. I got your note.”  
  
Jared looks him over again, shifting closer. “You know…you weren’t supposed to make dressing like a girl look _good_.” Jensen’s skin goes hot and tight at the suggestion in Jared’s voice. “We’re trying to embarrass you, not make everyone jealous of me.”  
  
“I, uh.” He’s not really sure what the hell to say to that, and he can’t drag his gaze away from Jared’s to regain his bearings. In the end, he manages to choke out an awkward apology, mentally slapping himself for letting Jared get the upper hand yet again. He should be thinking of an excuse to get away, try to talk to a few of the other pledges, gather information.  
  
Jared’s hand is warm and gentle when he squeezes Jensen’s shoulder, fingers lingering and dipping just under the thin strap of the dress. “Don’t be sorry,” he says quietly, and Jensen _feels_ like a woman when the compliment obvious in Jared’s expression and voice has him close to weak-kneed and melting.  
  
Jesus, this is _bad_.  
  
He lets out a strangled laugh, pulling away when he finally realizes how close they’re standing, practically pressed together in the doorway where anyone could get a good glimpse if they wanted. Although he doubts there’s a sober soul in the house, aside from him and Mike.  
  
Jared’s definitely had more than a few, eyes heavy-lidded and glazed-soft, and he reaches out and tugs Jensen close again. “Where you goin’?”  
  
_What’m I **doing?**_ Jensen wonders frantically, while Jared drags him out of the kitchen straight into the dimly-lit throbbing mass of sweat and sex.   
  
Jared’s expression is dark and purposeful, making it real damned hard to even remember what he’s supposed to be doing here. Then Jared’s hips suddenly grind against his own, and Jensen swallows.   
  
Jared’s mind might be a little slow at the moment, but his body’s definitely not having any problems keeping up.  
  
“You know, no one even knows who you are,” Jared whispers against Jensen’s ear, mouth wet and hot, cock hard. Jensen sucks on his bottom his lip and curses the thong biting into his swelling erection. “I could…I could…”   
  
Jared’s breath is shaky, and then his hands are cupping Jensen’s ass and squeezing. His words come out choppy and strained, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the context. “Right here…wouldn’t fucking _know…_ ”  
  
“Uh, I think you’re a little out of it.” Hysterical laughter brews in Jensen’s chest, because under any other circumstance? Being practically molested by a piece of ass as hot as Jared Padalecki would be right up there on Jensen’s list of things to do.  
  
“How ‘bout I get ‘in it’ then?” Jared rolls his hips, slow and meaningful, one hand slipping up under the hem of Jensen’s dress. Jensen hisses through his teeth when Jared brushes across the fading welts from the paddling days before.  
  
“Damn,” he breathes, and Jensen echoes the oath in his head.   
  
“You’re so goddamn pretty, Jensen.” Jared’s purring, working Jensen’s dress up and pressing them back further into the shadows. “You’re kinda ridiculous, even. I swear to Christ, I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.” An almost desperate gleam lights his eyes when he pulls back, studying Jensen with boyish hope. “Tell me I’m not readin’ you wrong.”  
  
Jensen knows he oughta say _something_ \-- preferably _get off of me, you fucking abusive assclown_ \-- but the truth is, Jensen’s starting to get really freaked out that he’s misjudged something somewhere in this gigantic mess. Jared’s not what he expected, definitely, but Jensen’s determined to bring these people down and he can’t deny that Jared’s a part of the big picture.   
  
Just like he can’t really deny that he’s starting not to care.  
  
“You’re not,” he grinds out finally, equally relieved and dismayed when Jared’s eyes go melting hot and he fingers the strap of satin and lace riding the crease of Jensen’s ass.   
  
“I can make you feel so fucking good.”   
  
Jensen shivers a little when those long, talented fingers start pulling the thong down his hips. God, it’s been so long since he’s been in this position, since he’s let _anyone_ take this kind of control, and he’s not sure if he likes it. But there’s no way in hell he’s gonna let it stop.  
  
The first touch of Jared’s hand on his cock has Jensen’s hips lurching, lips cussing, and his head falling back against the wall with a solid thud. Jared’s mouth draws a focused line, fist hot and tight, and he breathes, “Goddamn, baby” in a gritty voice that makes Jensen want to jump out of his damn skin. Then, “Oh yeah, you like that, huh? More?”  
  
Jensen answers by wrapping a leg around Jared’s calf and lifting up into his ridiculously huge hand, lashes fluttering and _fuck_ , if he isn’t a damned whore for this shit.   
  
For _Jared._  
  
Jared sighs his approval, tightening his grip and dragging his thumb over Jensen’s leaking cockhead. “Wanted to do this forever.” Jensen just nods dazedly, but Jared’s nowhere near done. “Wanna see you, Jen, pretty-pink and spread out in my bed. Wanna fuck that _mouth_ , stretch you wide, make you _mine._ ”  
  
“Fucking hell,” Jensen groans, hips bursting, cock thrusting. _I am so screwed, screwed, fucking **screwed**._  
  
“But right now.” Jared swallows, closing his eyes for a split-second before they reopen and he squeezes Jensen from root to tip. “Right now I’m gonna kiss you, and then I’m gonna lick your come from my hand.”  
  
Jensen shudders, wound too tight for too long. Spills sticky and hot across Jared’s fingers as those filthy-talking lips come down on his and suck his tongue straight out of his own mouth. Jared’s fingers keep working his dick, leaving Jensen to reach up and twist his in Jared’s mop of hair, struggling to keep steady.   
  
The kiss is sloppy, too wet, and nothing like anything Jensen’s experienced since he was a fumbling schoolboy still debating the pros and cons of tits versus balls. It’s also so damn ridiculously hot that he just shot off like a fucking schoolboy, too, and there’s no way Jared missed _that_.  
  
Jared lets go of Jensen’s bottom lip after tonguing the now-swollen flesh one last time. He deliberately holds Jensen’s gaze, and then brings his come-slick hand up to his mouth.   
  
Jensen’s spent cock gives a feeble twitch, fingers flexing and itching at his sides as he watches Jared lick his hand clean. Just as he’s contemplating reaching out and _fuck it all_ , Jared pulls back and adjusts himself with a muttered, “Jesus.” Leaves Jensen standing there, wide-eyed and rumpled as he turns and disappears through the crowd.   
  
Hours later, Jensen’s alone again in his own bed and jerking off to the memory of Jared’s soft groan, the lapping of his tongue.  
  
Things have just gotten way more complicated than he’s prepared to deal with.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Pledge Week.  
Day 1. _  
  
  
  
  
The first rule to remember when joining a fraternity, Jensen knows, is that they’re all fucked in the head.   
  
He’s all about the male “bonding”, in theory _and_ in practice, but he draws the line at being dragged out of bed by several guys wearing hooded cloaks and Superman pajama pants.   
  
Jensen’s pretty sure he’s seen this movie. It wasn’t worth the price of admission.  
  
Slung over a pair of broad shoulders and staring at a nicely-rounded Superman-covered ass, he drawls, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”   
  
“Don’t speak unless spoken to, _pledge_ ,” comes a smarmy voice from under one of the hoods.  
  
Jensen takes a deep breath and thinks of the unidentified stranger plastered across the front of the student newspaper with every horrific caption Jensen can come up with. It succeeds in curbing his tongue for now, and then he’s being lowered to his feet, blinking at the group of guys in various states of undress, huddling together on the floor of…wherever the hell they are.  
  
The one who’d been carrying him pulls off his hood, and Jensen stares up at a shaggy mop of dark curls, mischievous hazel eyes and pink lips and -- _oh, for crying out loud._  
  
Mr. Adorable flashes a set of dimples that further emphasizes the name Jensen’s libido has decided upon. It sets off warning bells in his head while he struggles to think of where he’s seen that smile before.   
  
_“What can I do for you?”  
  
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”_  
  
The fleeting memory throws him for a loop. Jensen feels himself _blush_ for the first time in close to ten years when the guy’s gaze snags on him and he murmurs to his friend, “Dibs on the pretty one.”  
  
Familiar smile, familiar voice, and Jensen’s eyes narrow. Something’s definitely weird here, but he can’t quite put his finger on it and _damn_ , but he doesn’t like being jerked around.  
  
“Which is the pretty one? Dude, you’re so fucking gay,” the other guy says, snorting and shouldering the dark-haired cutie with no little amount of brotherly affection. “Better hope Chris doesn’t find out you’re paddling your boat in uncharted waters, if ya catch my drift.”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with an alternative lifestyle--”  
  
“Pretty sure you’re thinking of alternative _rock_.”  
  
“Jared, Chad, shut the fuck up.” It comes from the front of the room, and Jensen turns to see a squinty little guy in a cowboy hat bearing down hard on the two talkative frat brothers.   
  
Okay, he’s not really all that little, or squinty, and any other time Jensen might feel charitable enough to admit the guy’s got it going on, but right now he’s tired and pissed off. Not to mention he’s still stuck on dimples and blinding white teeth, so pretty much everything else pales in comparison.   
  
“Sorry, Chris,” the two Brothers apologize in unison, and the one Jensen’s been eyeing like the last piece of candy in the chocolate factory slants him a look and winks.   
  
Jensen flushes, blood and pulse quickening, and doesn’t quite understand his own reaction to such a practiced move. But he’s willing to go with it.  
  
For now.  
  
“All right, pledges. Listen up.” The one Jensen gathers to be the homophobic Chris brings his hands together in a thunderous clap, and several of the nervous pledge-hopefuls wince. Jensen tries not to roll his eyes, and fights back a yawn.   
  
Damn, but he could’ve used an extra hour of sleep before having to deal with _this_ shit.  
  
“What’s that, pledge?”  
  
Jensen blinks, looking up to find everyone staring at him. _Aw, hell._ Apparently, lack of sleep also robs him of his ability to keep his private thoughts, well, private.  
  
“We interrupt your beauty sleep?” Chris asks, sarcastic and mocking, and several of the still-cloaked Brothers snicker. The shorter of the two from before – Chad, maybe? Jensen’s never really liked the name Chad, and it would be such a shame if it belonged to the gorgeous kid with the eyes and lips – elbows Maybe-Jared in the belly and points. Jensen feels his dick give a hopeful twitch the second those dark eyes stroke him again.  
  
“Er,” is all Jensen says, shifting his weight from one hip to the other. “No?”  
  
Chris is still glaring at him, and Jensen wonders when was the last time the guy had his dick good and sucked. Not that he’s about to offer, but it’d cheer the asshole up a bit at least. “What’s your name, pledge?”  
  
Jensen sighs. “Jensen.”   
  
“Not anymore. You gotta earn that right.” There’s a gleam in Chris’s eyes that Jensen would fear if he weren’t ninety-nine percent sure he could knock this fucker out in a punch fight. There’s a tension-filled beat of silence, and then, “’Til then, we’ll just call you Beauty. And you know what every Beauty needs, pledge?”  
  
“A beast?” Maybe-Chad cracks, and Jensen’s surprised to see the flush creeping up the dark-haired kid’s neck. The joke isn’t _that_ bad, although he supposes just having to be friends with a guy like Maybe-Chad would be enough of an embarrassment.  
  
Chris is still watching him, lips curled into a sneer, and Jensen takes it all back. This guy is definitely little. And squinty. And much, much uglier than Jensen.  
  
A low drawl precedes the snap of Chris’s fingers. “Get up here, Jared.”  
  
Jensen tries not to feel _too_ smug when his eye candy disengages himself from Definitely-Chad’s hip and walks over to stand by Chris. Jensen can’t help but lick his lips when he notices how very _not_ little, or squinty, Jared is in comparison.   
  
“Beauty,” Chris says again, and Jensen hears more snickering in the shadowed corners of the room. Sees Chad’s smirk and something flash in Jared’s eyes as Chris pats him on the chest, a smug note flavoring his voice. “Meet your Beast.”  
  
Chad leans toward him amidst the cackles. “Maybe if you’re lucky, you won’t find out why they call ‘im that.”  
  
Jensen stares at Jared, and all at once, gone is the shy flush, the half-smile, and in its place is a hard, knowing glitter that sends warmth curling through Jensen’s belly. Jared’s smile just stretches wider.  
  
_Maybe I wouldn’t mind finding out._   
  
Jensen holds Jared’s gaze and swallows past a lump of uncertainty for the first time since this whole thing started.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** 'Til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [3/7]  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating:** R [NC-17 overall]  
**Word Count:** 2, 129  
**Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
**Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the timeframe at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*  
  
  
  
  
Previously:  
  
_“Beauty,” Chris says again, and Jensen hears more snickering in the shadowed corners of the room. Sees Chad’s smirk and something flash in Jared’s eyes as Chris pats him on the chest, a smug note flavoring his voice. “Meet your Beast.”  
  
Chad leans toward him amidst the cackles. “Maybe if you’re lucky, you won’t find out why they call ‘im that.”_  
  
  
And now:  
  
_University of Texas.  
Darrell K. Royal-Texas Memorial Stadium  
Day 5._  
  
  
Jensen's going to kill Jared.  
  
Literally rip him limb from fucking limb -- slowly, make it _memorable_ \-- and then he's going to string Jared’s bloody, ragged remains from the Tower. Let it serve as a lesson for all the snot-nosed fraternity brats on campus.  
  
But for now, all he can do is plot terrible things and sulk. Munch on stale nachos while trying to ignore the warm press of tits against both arms. His eyes water, his nose itches, and he sends up a silent prayer for a strong breeze or a thunderstorm or the Apocalypse itself before the overwhelming stench of sixteen different kinds of perfume has his allergies staging a mutiny.  
  
A fucking _date run_.   
  
Sure, Jensen’s heard tell of them. He’s laughingly mocked them himself upon seeing the poor, idiotic pledges looking like they’d prefer a bullet in the brain to catering to their sister-sorority’s every last request.  
  
All things considered, it was one of the milder rituals of the hazing process. At least, until _you_ were the poor, idiotic pledge. Then it was sheer fucking unadulterated torture, and Jensen was really trying not to let his sexuality be a determining factor in the situation. He _loves_ women, maybe not sexually, but he’s never had a problem being around them. This…this is a horse of a different color.  
  
Hell, he’d challenge any red-blooded heterosexual male to try and make it through one of these things and not excuse himself after ten minutes to go cry in the bathroom.   
  
To make matters worse, the Delta Sigs are partnered up with the Alpha Phis, and if ever a more flighty, simpering group of people existed in this world, Jensen’s (thankfully) yet to meet them. He’s been introduced to plenty of _Candies_ and _Stacies_ and _Melanies_ and managed not to miss a beat when they started calling him _Jenny_. He’s played the role damn near to perfection; smiling and laughing, flirting and fetching drinks and popcorn from the other end of the fucking stadium every time a pair of baby blues batted his way.  
  
On his third trip back, he pauses to take in the projector screen set up on the fifty yard line, the rows of lawn chairs and people partaking in UT’s first-annual _Longhorns Drive-In_ , and contemplates making a run for it. Jared never said how _long_ he had to stay, did he? Just to bring them all here and make sure they had a good time.   
  
Besides, he's gonna kill Jared anyway, so what the fuck does it matter?  
  
Cue heavenly amusement on Jensen’s behalf, because just as he's thinking it, his cell phone rings, the sound making him jump. He pulls it out and rolls his eyes at the caller’s identity. Flips it open and snaps, “What?”  
  
Jared’s voice is a slow, sexy drawl. “How’s it goin’, Beauty?”  
  
Jensen purses his lips, tightening his grip on the bucket of popcorn for -- Sarah? Stephanie? -- and mutters in a voice he hopes is too low for Jared to hear, “I fucking hate when you call me that.”  
  
“S’that right? What _should_ I call you then?” Amusement sparkles in Jared’s lazy voice.  
  
_Goddamn motherfucker_. Jensen’s teeth grit together, and he takes a deep breath, reminding himself -- again -- of what he’s here for. What he’s trying to accomplish. And why it’s worth this fucking misery.   
  
“Beauty’s…fine.” He can practically see Jared’s smug smile on the other end, and chews on the inside of his cheek. Conflicting emotions twist in his belly, turn his voice raspy, defensive. “And things are going great. Perfect.”  
  
“Uh-huh.” There’s a beat; Jensen scuffs his toe along the ground, stares up at the autumn night sky. “You wanna strangle them all with their purses, don’t you?”  
  
And just that easily, adversary becomes confidant. “Jesus _Christ_ , man.” Jensen pulls the phone tighter to his ear, ducking into the shadows and watching the group of girls he’d escorted squealing and talking and generally irritating everyone else in the near vicinity. “This is fucked up.”  
  
Jared’s laughter is hearty, real, warm, making Jensen bite his lip and struggle not to think about the day before. He hasn’t let himself remember the feel of Jared’s paddle on his ass at all today, despite the persistant tingle-sting, or his reaction to it. He’d exorcised those particular demons last night, hand and fingers wrapped tight around blood-thickened cock, pillow in his teeth and come burning his belly.  
  
He's over it.  
  
Unfortunately, Jared’s apparently in the mood to talk, so Jensen can’t hang up the phone and get back to the women who, while damaging his calm, pose no threat to his now-questionable sanity.   
  
“When I pledged, they sent us all out on a scavenger hunt to find our flag.” Jared’s voice takes a turn for wry, misty, so Jensen settles back against the wall, resigned and prepared to listen. “Of course, the girls had it and we had to do everything they said to get it back. _Everything._ ”  
  
“Of course.” Jensen can’t stop the smirk from twisting his lips. “Lemme guess…they wanted to take you shoe shopping?”  
  
“More like they wanted me to strip down naked and let them tattoo their crest on my ass. Apparently, I’m an Alpha Phi for life.”  
  
Jensen’s bark of laughter is surprising and genuine, and he can practically feel Jared’s answering pleasure across the line. Recovering quickly, Jensen clears his throat. “That’s, um, lucky for you.”  
  
“Jensen.” Jared’s voice is gentle, made softer when he uses Jensen’s name, and a shiver prickles along Jensen’s spine, completely at odds with the warm Texas breeze. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m _gay._ ”  
  
Uh, yeah. He’d kind of gathered that, what with the whole hard spanking that he was definitely not remembering. “Um.”  
  
“Letting a bunch of giggly co-eds feel me up is on my list of things to do _never._ ” Jared laughs, and Jensen thinks he likes the sound a little too much. “At the time I kind of thought maybe Chris _knew_ , but Chad had to do it, too, and if anyone would appreciate being held down and violated by a bunch of dyed-blonde Amazons, it’s Murray.”  
  
“Yeah, thanks for that thought.” But Jensen’s grinning, and it takes him a minute to realize that he’s actually enjoying the conversation. That any antagonistic feelings toward Jared had been wiped away with the first lazy slur from that wide mouth. His smile fades away, but the warmth in his chest lingers, making him feel uneasy and off-kilter.  
  
Like he knows exactly how vulnerable Jensen’s feeling, Jared pauses, then starts in with a casual, “Look, about yesterday.”  
  
_Oh, hell no._ “I oughta be getting back,” Jensen says quickly, ignoring the twinge in his buttocks. Resists the urge to reach down, run his finger along the fresh welts and shudder like he’d done into the wee hours of the night. In the shower that morning. Every moment he’d let himself admit that he wasn’t gonna forget any time soon.  
  
“I could get kicked out for what I did to you.” Jensen goes stock-still at the husky murmur. “I shouldn’t have…taken it that far. Or pushed you.”  
  
This is it. This is the perfect opportunity to turn the tide of control his way, to use Jared’s guilty remorse against him and see what else he can get out of it. Instead, he hears himself say, “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”  
  
Jared’s quiet for a long moment. Then, “You liked it, didn’t you?” A hitch of breath, and Jensen squeezes his eyes shut. Wonders what he’s doing, because none of this -- none of _Jared_ \-- had ever been in the plan. “You like being held down and…spanked, Jensen?”  
  
Just that easy, smooth and confident Jared’s back, and Jensen goes blindingly and unapologetically hard. He should hang up _nownownow_ , but apparently his brain doesn’t have any kind of defense against Jared Padalecki. “I, um.”  
  
“I’m not gonna tell anyone.” Gritty, quiet…truthful? Jensen’s troubled by how much he wants to believe it. He draws hard on his bottom lip, reaches down to shove the heel of his hand against his dick when Jared groans through a breath. “I bet you’d look so pretty begging for it, Jen. All spread out and flushed, or maybe bent over and slick and…hmm.”  
  
“Fucking hell.” Jensen pulls the phone away and brings his fist up to his mouth. _Get a grip, Jensen. He’s fucking with you…he doesn’t mean any of this, or maybe he does, but it doesn’t matter. Not gonna happen._  
  
“Jensen?”   
  
He startles at the feminine tone, and looks over to see one of the Alpha Phis walking up to him, dark hair fanning her shoulders and a puzzled smile on her pretty face. Too late to run now, so he just smiles and hopes it’s dark enough to hide the flush on his cheeks and the massive hard-on in his pants.  
  
The girl -- whose name he can’t remember, although he thinks it maybe starts with a T -- narrows her eyes, then smiles back, edging closer. “Everything okay?” she asks, too sweetly, and Jensen tries not to grimace at the suggestive note in her tone.  
  
“Tell her to get lost,” Jared’s voice comes, filthy-soft and thick. Persuasive. “And meet me at the HRC in fifteen minutes.”  
  
Meet Jared. Alone. Still heady on the confusing emotions glomming his insides, he thinks about the museum -- sure to be a ghost town this time of night -- and walking in, being slammed up against the wall. Hot mouth angling across his in the dark, big hands shaping his ass, cock riding hard thigh.   
  
Jensen makes up his mind just that easily. “I gotta go.” Licks his lips. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow morning…big Brother.”  
  
He knows Jared gets the point when nothing but silence answers him. Jensen closes his phone and turns to the sorority sister with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  
  
“What can I do for you, honey?”  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Perry-Castañeda Library  
2 days before Pledge Week._  
  
  
“Sorry I’m late.” Jensen slams his bag down on the table, getting dirty looks from a few of the library aides that he readily ignores. Catching Allison’s gaze, he gives a sheepish smile and shrugs both shoulders. “Practice ran over again.”  
  
Allie just shakes her head, sending choppy blonde waves fluttering across her eyes. “Are you _sure_ about this?” she asks for the umpteenth time, and Jensen hears the uncertain note coloring his friend and colleague’s voice. “Jensen, your plate’s really full this semester. If you can’t handle it, just _tell_ Mike and let him pawn this thing off on someone else--”  
  
“No.” Blunt, final, and he feels only a little guilty at the heat that sharpens it. He blows out a breath, rolling his neck and sliding into the chair beside Allie. “Look, I just. I _need_ to be involved with this. If it means dropping baseball, or cutting a few hours at the Café, then I’ll just…I’ll adjust.”  
  
Allie’s eyes are wary, but accepting. “You can talk to me, you know.”  
  
Jensen smiles breezily, but can’t quite hold her gaze. “Yeah.” Reaching for the keyboard in front of him, he scoots in closer. “Tell me what we have so far.”  
  
It takes a second, but then Allie replies and sounds back to her usual, go-get-em self. “Three cases so far on the Deltas alone. Fines, mostly, but there was a period back in ’94 when they actually shut the House down and threatened to revoke on-campus licensing.”  
  
“Nice,” Jensen drawls, opening a new browser and squinting at the small print. Damn, he should’ve brought his glasses. “Reason?”  
  
Allie’s soft snort punctuates the clacking of her fingers. “Seems that year’s pledge group wound up in the emergency room after consuming close to three gallons of some mystery cocktail. Stomach pumps for all, and the Deltas got more than the usual slap on the wrist.”  
  
“Morons,” Jensen mutters, fingers flexing. “Every single fucking one of them.”  
  
“Even Tom?” Allie keeps her eyes straight ahead, voice soft, as if she expects to be slapped herself.  
  
“Tom doesn’t know what the fuck he wants.” Jensen grinds his teeth together, washes down the worry with bitter determination. “Besides, he’s not Greek.”  
  
“Not yet.” Allie glances over quickly, then bites her lip. Says meaningfully, “Eventually he will be.”  
  
“Don’t underestimate me just yet, Allie.” Jensen’s smile is fierce and more than a little bit excited. “Always have a few tricks up my sleeve.”  
  
Allie sighs, longsuffering and slightly exasperated. “One day you’ll meet your match, Jensen," she sings, and Jensen smiles, but says nothing.  
  
_Not if I can help it_. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** 'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [4/7]  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 3, 270  
**Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
**Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the timeframe at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*  
  
  
  
Previously:  
  
_“I could get kicked out for what I did to you.” Jensen goes stock-still at the husky murmur. “I shouldn’t have…taken it that far. Or pushed you.”  
  
This is it. This is the perfect opportunity to turn the tide of control his way, to use Jared’s guilty remorse against him and see what else he can get out of it. Instead, he hears himself say, “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”_  
  
  
And now:  
  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
East Mall.  
Day 9._  
  
  
In the end, Jensen should’ve known better.  
  
“No walking on the grass” was the name of today’s game, and considering everything else he’d already been put through by the Delta Sigs’, it seemed a pretty mild request. At least, until he gets outside, and realizes just how fucked he really is.   
  
He’s supposed to meet Allie and Mike at the library by noon, and the shuttles aren’t running this week because of some transportation strike. And he’s got nothing but miles of green, Texas grass between Fine Arts and Law and PCL.  
  
The Deltas’ don’t really operate on an honor system, so Jensen assumes there are Brothers around, waiting. Watching. Just looking for a reason, and Jensen doesn’t need to give them one. Doesn’t need them looking too close, digging too deep and finding out his real motivations for being there. Not that he’s really sure he even knows himself, anymore.  
  
Still…  
  
He takes a quick look around, doesn’t see any familiar faces and hell, it’s a long walk. Figuring he can come up with a good excuse should the situation warrant it, he steps out onto manicured lawn, ducks his head to keep from being seen, and begins sprinting toward the North end of campus.  
  
At the East Mall, he turns a corner and runs right into Chad. The kid’s eyes narrow, then light up when he looks down and sees Jensen’s sneakers sinking into the earth. “Well, what do we have here?”  
  
Jensen’s cheeks are flushed from the short jog, and it takes him a second to catch his breath. He pulls an appropriately chagrined expression and thinks _I hate you all._ “Yeah, look, I--  
  
“Think you’re better than we are, huh? Think you don’t have to follow the rules, the process?” Chad’s voice takes on a belligerent tenor, something heated and dangerous sparking through his gaze. He leans in closer and Jensen smells musk and cologne, pleasantly woodsy and spicy, but it makes his stomach churn. He forces himself not to react when Chad’s lips stretch wider. “I’ve got news for you, _pledge_. I’m onto you.”  
  
Jensen’s gaze snaps up, submissive façade crumbling under the weight of surprise, and Chad chuckles. It’s not a pretty sound, and the first real jolt of fear punctures Jensen’s cynicism. Not that he’s really afraid of _Chad_ , but that he may have gotten in way deeper than he’d even imagined.  
  
It’s shadowy behind the building, and Jensen suddenly remembers something from the file Allie gave him. The dismissed claims from several sophomore sorority girls against the Deltas’ five years back.   
  
“I’ve seen the way you look at us, at Jared.” Jensen goes stiff, and Chad presses on, moving even closer. His voice is a nasty whisper now, brushing across Jensen’s skin like a phantom chill. “You think we’re a fucking joke, don’t you? But you wanna be us, too. Wanna be us, _challenge_ us. Wanna be…punished, maybe?”  
  
Chad’s hands come down on his shoulders, swift and sudden, and Jensen hears laughter roaring in his ears as pavement burns his knees. Chad rocks his hips, denim seam roughing up Jensen’s lips, and Jensen wonders why the hell he’s not _fighting_ this when he wants to scream and beat Chad’s smarmy grin in with his fists.  
  
_You liked it, didn’t you? Liked being held down and…spanked?_  
  
God, what the hell had Jared told him?  
  
“See something you like, pledge?” Chad purrs, smug amusement in his gaze when Jensen looks back up. “Christ, no wonder Jay wanted you all for himself. You’re fucking begging for it, aren’t you?”  
  
That hurts, more than Jensen wants to think about. Not that Chad’s an asshole; he’s known that from the minute this whole thing started. But that Jared’s one, too, that he’s just been using Jensen for fucking hazing practice or whateverthehell…but then, Jensen’s known that all along, hasn’t he?  
  
“ _The fuck’s going on here?_ ”  
  
Jensen winces, more angry than surprised when Jared appears, bag slung across wide shoulders and a scowl darkening his features. Meeting Jared’s gaze, he lets every emotion he’s feeling weigh down his stare, lets Jared _see_ , and takes a perverse pleasure out of it when Jared flushes and snaps his gaze back at Chad.  
  
“What the fuck is this, man?” Jared sounds disbelieving, furious, but Jensen knows better. He knows better than anyone what a damn fine actor Jared can be.  
  
“Dude, he was breaking the rules.” Chad’s voice is a bored whine, like he can’t quite figure out why Jared’s even upset. “Wasn’t gonna do anything…just scaring him a bit. Teaching him a lesson.”  
  
“You’re a fucking prick, Murray.”  
  
At that, Chad’s mouth falls open, genuine shock curling his lip. “What’s wrong with you? I know he’s your pledge and you’re possessive and all that shit, but he belongs to Delta Sigma, Jay.”  
  
Jensen watches Jared’s expression, the wavering, unsure frown, and right then, he despises Jared like no one else on Earth. Wants to choke him, wrap his hands around Jared’s neck until his lying eyes are bugging out of their sockets and he’s begging Jensen for mercy.  
  
Then, softer, deadlier, “You’re a fucking _prick_ , Murray. And keep your hands off what’s mine.”  
  
Chad’s call of “Jared!” gathers no response, and Jensen tries to jerk his arm away when Jared takes hold of it, drags Jensen up against his side. But Jared slants him a single, quelling look. “Don’t. Just…come with me, please?”  
  
Jensen wants to tell him to fuck off, but something about the softness of that plea won’t let it happen. He gives half a thought to Allie and Mike waiting back at the library, then grinds his teeth and follows Jared. Back to Frat Row, past the staring Brothers lounging in the den of Delta House and up to Jared’s room. He feels on display, trussed-up, and itching for a fight.  
  
The second Jared’s door shuts behind them, he whirls around and has an elbow against Jared’s throat. “Don’t fucking touch me.”  
  
“Jensen.” Something glitters in Jared’s eyes, dark and twisted, _apologetic_ , and it has Jensen’s temper fraying at already ragged edges.  
  
“Sick fucks, all of you,” he gets out, hoarse and shaky with anger. “One reason…give me _one reason_ why I shouldn’t call the fucking cops right now.”  
  
Jared licks his lips, leaving them shiny-pink. After a thoughtful beat, his eyes focus intently on Jensen. “You won’t.”  
  
Jensen holds his gaze, reaches into his pocket for his phone. Watches Jared’s lips flatten together as he presses the first two buttons to dial campus patrol. He’s opening his mouth to speak, and then Jared’s there, reaching out even as Jensen raises a fist in warning.  
  
Jared just holds on, one big palm cupping Jensen’s face and forcing Jensen’s chin higher. There’s desperation twisting Jared’s features, sure, but there’s also something else less easy to define. “Do you not want _me_ , or do you not want Delta Sigma?”   
  
“There’s not a goddamn distinction!” Jensen growls, jerking away, but Jared’s having none of it.   
  
“Sure, there is.” Jared’s jaw twitches, and Jensen absolutely does _not_ think about what that prickly flesh would feel like under his tongue. Whether Jared would taste salty from the Texas sun, or sweet like the candy he’s always stuffing down his throat. His voice goes low, quiet. “Me or them, Jen.”  
  
“Get your fucking hands off me.” He says it as calmly as he can manage, knuckles and lips white with strain. He’s shaking so badly he imagines his bones rattling, and isn’t sure if it’s anger or want driving him anymore. The whole situation is fucked, and all he cares about -- when he bothers to admit it to himself -- is just what the hell’s gonna happen to _Jared_ when this is all over.  
  
Jared rolls with it when Jensen shoves him back, wry smile curling his lips. He very deliberately lets Jensen go, lifting both hands in the air in a seeming show of innocence. But before Jensen can say or do anything, he’s backed against the wall, arms and elbows framing his head, Jared’s fingers splayed wide against the plaster.  
  
Jared’s murmur sets his blood on fire, his lips pressed up against the shell of Jensen’s ear. “See, I just don’t think you really mean it, Jensen.”  
  
“Don’t analyze me, you sick bastard.” His voice is too weak, and _goddamn it_ , but Jared’s right. Jensen wants those huge hands on him, in him, wants to beg and plead and spread wide for whatever the hell Jared has in mind to do to him.  
  
_He wants it._ And Jared knows.  
  
“Tell me not to touch you,” Jared coaxes, throaty and inviting, kicking Jensen’s feet apart so he can slide in closer. He leans in, mouthing the underside of Jensen’s jaw, then snaps his teeth together on a short growl. “And maybe try to make me believe it this time.”  
  
Jensen swallows against the flat of Jared’s tongue, eyes wanting to roll back. “S-So, what. Day 9: get raped? That on the agenda?” He sounds scorched, ragged, like his voice has been dragged over hot coals and through broken glass. “This part of the fucking _process_ , Jared?”  
  
Jared goes still, then he’s got a hand down between them. Jensen hisses a breath and can’t help but rock into the heel of Jared’s palm when it presses hard against his dick. Bitter triumph scores Jared’s voice, laid wide open and defenseless by Jensen’s words. “What are you so damn scared of? That you’ll like it? Like _me?_ ”  
  
Jensen forces out a laugh. “You fucking wish.”  
  
“Yeah, I do.” Sincerity sharpens Jared’s cat-eyes, knotting Jensen’s belly and making him want more than anything to believe it. That this kid’s for real, that he’s not another screwed-up, asshole fratboy playing mindgames.  
  
He licks his lips, but doesn’t reply. Just stares Jared down, cock thrumming against those long fingers and blood pumping thick and hot through his veins.  
  
Jared finally breaks on a strangled groan, head dipping down so that Jensen can’t see anything but a flip of shaggy hair and lashes. “I want you.”  
  
“Course you do,” Jensen mocks softly, ignoring the flash of mulish, wounded pride in Jared’s eyes when he looks up. “But we don’t always get what we want, stud. S’called growing the fuck up.”  
  
Jared moves so fast that one second here’s there, the next Jensen’s got his nose pressed to the wall. His breath catches in his throat on an excited hiss as he backs into the solid weight behind him.  
  
“Still don’t much believe you.” Jared's sharp teeth closing around the lobe of Jensen’s ear, and Jensen sputters through a groan. “Say it, Jen. C’mon, _say it._ ” Jared’s tongue soothes the bite-sting, and Jensen’s cock twitches. “Lemme hear it from that dirty, pretty mouth of yours… _You. Don’t. Want. Me._ ”  
  
It’s on the tip of his tongue, but won’t slide off. Frustrated desire leaps under Jensen’s skin, and he lets out a soft sound when Jared reaches around, hand pressing low on Jensen’s belly and pulling him back. His ass fits snug against Jared’s hips, and Jensen cusses, low and quiet.  
  
“Yeah. Fuck,” Jared agrees, slurring the word in Jensen’s ear as he rolls his pelvis and slips his fingers down to Jensen’s zipper. “Last chance, baby. Better make it count.”  
  
“Fuck you.” It’s hardly a threat, weakened all the more when Jared tugs his pants down to his ankles and Jensen feels warm breath fan across his ass. He glances over his shoulder; Jared’s on his knees, wetting his lips, his eyes hot and keyed up.  
  
“It’d be a pleasure.” He palms Jensen’s cheeks, spreading them wide open. Jensen rolls his forehead against the wall, eyes squeezed tight, and he holds his breath and awaits that first sinful brush of hot-slick velvet.  
  
Jared doesn’t disappoint, and Jensen shudders and pants through his teeth at the warm swipe of tongue. “Oh, fuck yes, then. Lick my ass.” Jensen’s fingers curl, sweat dampening his neck, and Jared chuckles.  
  
“Dirty, pretty mouth,” he murmurs again, and Jensen flushes all over. Locks his knees to keep from buckling under the assault of Jared’s lips and tongue. He drags a forearm up, rests against it while Jared’s fingers dimple his flesh and pull him into a rocking rhythm.  
  
The practical part of him’s shouting -- _this isn’t a good idea, why are you letting this kid eat your ass in a crappy room at some frathouse?_ \-- and then Jared’s tongue curls, twists inside of him. Jensen keens low in his throat and tells practicality to go fuck itself.  
  
He falls into something of a trance, back arched and legs spread, until the sound of the door being thrown open startles him out of it. Jared’s grip goes tight; he hisses “Get out” in as scary a voice as Jensen’s ever heard. The door slams shut, and Jensen trembles when Jared comes to his feet, looming tall behind him.   
  
Foil crinkles in his ear, ripped apart by strong, sure hands, and then, “Gonna fuck you so good. You want that?”  
  
It’s a rough gasp, a promise delivered with a hot lick, and Jensen presses back and groans. “God yeah.”  
  
There’s a slick, slurping sound, and then fingers probing his ass. Jensen tenses up, forces a deep breath and relaxes through Jared’s drawled, “S’right…just open right up for me. Mmm, gonna feel so good inside you, Jen.”  
  
Two fingers, then three. Jensen savors the stretching, twisting, whispers filth and obsenities to match Jared’s while riding long fingers and thinking about cock.   
  
It’s been way too damn long.   
  
“More?” Jensen just nods, expecting another finger, maybe a thumb, but getting hard, blunt pressure instead. “Easy,” Jared breathes, _purrs_ , pulling him back, sinking slow and deep while making the sexiest noises Jensen’s ever heard.  
  
“Still don’t like you.” His voice cracks a little on the third thrust, ripped to shreds by the thick cock spearing his ass. Reaching an arm back, he finds Jared’s neck and pulls that wide, talkative mouth to his. “Fuck me harder.”  
  
“Ask me nicely.” Jared catches Jensen’s bottom lip between his teeth, chewing, rolling his hips. “Beg real pretty, Jen, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”  
  
A spark of anger bursts through Jensen, hot on the heels of a moan of encouragement that he -- thankfully -- manages to swallow in time. “Screw you!”  
  
Jared growls, burying his face in Jensen’s neck and gripping him harder by the hips. Slides almost all the way out, until a whimper escapes Jensen’s throat. “Say please.”  
  
_Damn it, goddamn it._ He wants to resist, wants to throw Chad’s words back in Jared’s face and make him explain. He also wants to submit, surrender, wants Jared to fucking _take_ and not ask questions. His ass twitches, begging to be filled, but he stays quiet through several beats of panting silence, just quivering with stubborn tension.  
  
Jared strokes his hip, drops a kiss on his shoulder. “Tell me you want me.”  
  
“Back to that?” Jensen grits his teeth, trying to push back, _force_ Jared’s dick back inside him. “Damn it, can’t you just--”  
  
“No.” Final, direct. Nimble fingers slip down to play with his cock, and Jensen bucks into Jared’s fist, head lolling against broad shoulder. “Tell me you’re mine, Jensen.”  
  
_Christ, I am. **I am.**_ “Not fucking property,” he says out loud, heart thumping hard against his throat. “I want you, but I’m not fucking--”  
  
Jared’s dick drives deep again, cutting Jensen off with a growly gasp, then he takes Jensen’s mouth in a long, wet kiss. “Good enough. For Now.” Jensen’s breath shudders, Jared’s words melting on his tongue like bittersweet chocolate.  
  
Jared’s done teasing; Jensen can tell by the frantic jerk of hips, the soft scrape of latex, the thick, boiling warmth nearly pegging him against the wall with every pump. He reaches between his legs, takes himself in hand and runs the tip of his thumb along his leaking cockhead, wanting to cry at the pressure building behind.  
  
“Christ, m’fuckin’…” he gets out seconds before the first splash burns his fingers, rendering his voice useless. He clamps down hard around Jared, hearing him groan out a curse and rock his hips again.  
  
Jared starts mumbling nonsensically -- “Babybaby, pretty baby, love this…you…” -- and bites down into Jensen’s shoulder so hard Jensen feels the blood bursting to the surface. He’s still wringing his cock dry, listening to Jared ride him through his own orgasm, and thinks, _Oh holy hell, what’m I gonna do now?_  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Blanton Hall.  
Two pledge cycles ago._  
  
  
“I’m gonna do it.”  
  
Jensen rolls over, sheets tangling at his calves, and meets Tom’s glittering gaze in the dark. Gives a soft smile, reaching out to run his hand along the muscle and sinew of Tom’s arm. “Do what, gorgeous?”  
  
Instead of smiling at the endearment, Tom makes a face and pointedly pulls away. Stares at the ceiling and breathes out, “Don’t.”  
  
Jensen’s hot and flushed all over, limbs lax from sex and sleep, but he’s not so out of it that he doesn’t catch the snap of ice in Tom’s voice. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“What’s wrong?” Tom laughs, nothing amusing about the sound, and Jensen’s lips flatten at the corners. “What’s wrong is _this_ , Jensen. I can’t…” He sucks in, ignoring the dumbfounded look Jensen knows is written across his face, and gestures between them. “I’m going Greek and I can’t do this shit anymore.”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jensen’s slightly amazed by how calm he sounds. How calm he _feels_ , considering Tom just pulled the rug out from under him. Just stuck a knife deep in his ribs and twisted. His next breath comes out sharp, ragged. “Since fucking _when_ , Tommy?”  
  
There’s a long beat of silence, and then a sullen, “You wouldn’t understand."   
  
“Maybe because I thought we’d decided against it! It’s _stupid_ and dangerous, and God, Tom, you know how I feel about that shit.” Jensen sits up, shoving a hand through his hair and wondering how an incredible night of fucking and loving turned so quickly into betrayal. When he meets Tom’s gaze again, there’s a shadow there he doesn’t want to label. “When were you gonna tell me?”  
  
“I never meant for any of this to happen.” Tom mumbles it under his breath, dropping Jensen’s gaze. He picks at the sheets, looking like a lost little boy rather than the gorgeous, older co-ed Jensen had picked up at an off-campus club months before. Looking like anything other than the person Jensen had fucking fallen for. Or thought he had, anyway.  
  
“Never meant for what to happen?” His voice freezes in his throat, knuckles going white as he clenches his fists in the sheets. “ _Us?_ ” He expects apology, guilt, maybe. Instead he gets fierce accusation, burning down deep in Tom’s blue eyes.   
  
“Yeah, maybe.” Tom says it low, quiet, but it echoes off the walls like a gunshot, and Jensen distantly thinks he can feel the wound, down deep in his chest. “And that’s pretty much it, right, Jensen?” A frustrated breath, fists rubbing the backs of eyes. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking cynical…you’ve already made up your mind what I am, _who_ I am. There’s no second chances with you. Fuck up once, and time’s run out.”  
  
“You’re right.” His heart’s pounding, and when Tom opens his eyes, stares back at him -- a little sad, a lot resigned -- Jensen’s mouth curls into a smile that hurts his face. “And I guess…I guess ours just ran out, huh?”


End file.
